Ernst Fruard

Seventeen-year-old Ernst Fruard chose a ten-year-old girl as his bride—marrying a child would offer years of freedom. But the calculating young man was mistaken: the girl turned out to be capricious and willful.

Years later, having become a duke, Ernst found his fifteen-year-old bride surrounded by mockers. Coldly dispersing them, he lifted the girl into his arms, but she rejected his protection.

Six years later, on the eve of their wedding, she came into his office and tripped, dropping her glasses. Ernst, seeing a grown woman standing before him, unexpectedly put them on. The gesture revealed a hidden tenderness.

She froze, looking at his transformed face. Authoritatively, but without harshness, he wrapped his arms around her neck. His lips touched hers—gently, but with an undeniable note of possessiveness. In that kiss, all the years of irritation and unspoken feelings dissolved. Sad—from the realization of wasted time, and passionate—from the suddenly unleashed feeling.

The ice was broken. Years of estrangement gave way to a fragile understanding between two people who finally saw in each other not duty, but destiny.